


Rectification

by Bubblystia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Dark, F/M, Fluff and Angst, NSFW, Poor Hawke Can't Get A Break, Sexual Tension, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-04-17
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:59:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bubblystia/pseuds/Bubblystia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Hawke became the Inquisitor? After Ander's actions in Kirkwall, Camille Hawke is plunged into despair, not just for Thedas, but for her family. For almost a year she has forgotten who she is.<br/>Until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Determination

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Chapter of Rectification. After the fall of Kirkwall and before the fall of the world, Camille Hawke finds her strength to defend her family and rectify the wrongs set by her former lover, Anders.

Hawke knew she had to clear up this mess. The guilt she felt was insurmountable, she had aided Anders in his plan to blow up the Kirkwall Chantry, unknowingly, but an associate nonetheless. Seeing the blast of crimson blot out the night sky, the howls of the dying and the realisation blanch out the faces of her companions was indescribable. She had gazed into his beautiful face moments after it happened, and saw nothing. No expression. It wasn't that for the past three years he had shut her away, throwing himself into his memoirs and activism. It wasn't that he had betrayed her.  
It was that he had betrayed their child. Their boy, his boy, his son that should always come first. She damned him when he slumped on that box, waiting for her to execute him. What would she tell their Bassion? That she had killed his terrorist father?

No.

Anders wished to martyr himself, death was what he wanted and she would be damned if she gave it to him. So she let him go, much to his shock. She convinced herself that the reason was that he must live with what he had done. Live with the screams of the people he killed, ringing in his ears while he watched the world burn because of his actions. But she also knew that her desperate love for him was the true motivation. With a cold, determined voice, Hawke sentenced him to another execution.

After the fall of Kirkwall, Camille Hawke just wanted to get away. Kirkwall had been seven years of chaos. The city was hell itself, dripping red with the blood of the innocent and the corrupting influence of Lyrium. Swiftly departing her companions she made her way to deep into The Hinterlands with Bassion. It was decided that her boy deserved a quiet life of love and prosperity. Not what other mages such as herself had been made to endure. They soon settled in a small cottage far from the nearest village, only leaving to retrieve supplies. For almost a year they lived there, Bassion and his fallen mother. The world was in chaos, the Mage rebellion threatened everything and yet promised so much. Camille wondered if it would actually provide her son, who would most likely become a mage, a brighter future. That was one of the many arguments Anders had provided to justify his absence. That his fanaticism was for the love of his child.

Bassion had only just turned three years old and yet he was quickly learning to walk, he hastily followed his mother over creaky floorboards into the steaming kitchen, where she was preparing herbs for a stew. Hawke had almost forgotten what it was like to cook for herself ever since her famed existence in the Amell mansion. The garden was lush and filled with assorted vegetables and herbs. The forest was safe enough and Camille would regularly take her infant companion for strolls through the undergrowth.

Just so he could feel true freedom.

It was the feeling of anonymity she wanted, not to be the Champion anymore, she had failed her city, failed her friends, failed her boy. She didn't deserve the damned title! With these thoughts Camille stopped cutting and almost sank to her knees as fresh tears pricked her eyes.

“Mama?” Bassion’s little face was inches from her skirts, eyes like saucers gazing up at her. Hawke’s face started to convulse, how could she be such a coward? The knife dropped to the table as she sank down to embrace her child.

“I will never let you down again sweetheart, I am so, so sorry!” she sobbed as tears streamed down her face. The cooking pot bubbled furiously as her own fire started to ignite. Is this really what the Champion of Kirkwall has been reduced to? Hiding in the middle of nowhere, ignoring the problems of the world that SHE helped to cause?

No.

This was not the Hawke her mother raised her to be. She was a fighter for Maker’s sake!, And if the chaos of the world was going to make her burn, she sure as hell would be damned if her son burned with her. Pulling him away from her, she firmly grasped his shoulders while gazing into his imploring eyes. Camille spoke determined words with a fierce low tone.

“ Little cub, I am done hiding, I am done ignoring the plights of this world. Running away from the fire wont save you from it, it will just make the death longer.” “And even if I cant be saved, I will never let anyone take you away from me be it mage or templar.”

With a fierce kiss to his forehead, she rose, feeling a fire she hadn't felt since she had defeated the Arishock.

Determination.

Her eyes seemed to glaze over as she thrust open the wooden door and stumbled into the morning air. Greedily she breathed it in, crisp with the promise of a new dawn as she lifted her arms to the sky which was now breaking with rain. Rain which she hoped would baptise her, wash her of all her sins, all she needed to atone for. Hawke’s eyes closed as she outstretched her hands even further, her face towards the sunrise as Bassion huddled to her skirts. When she opened her eyes, she knew what she had to do. She, Camille Hawke was going to stop the chaos and restore peace to Thedas. She would rectify the wrong she had inadvertently caused and save her son. With this thought she gazed directly into the horizon, hand stroking her son’s golden head.

With her mind full of promise.

And her heart full of fucking determination.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, this is my first fic and it is ambitious to say the least. I am being naughty because even though she WILL be the Inquisitor she isn't exactly a Trevelyan. Sorry, not sorry.  
> Leave some love and suggestions and i'll update accordingly.  
> Yes there may be a little love triangle forming between a strapping young templar, a brooding anti hero and a sexy tortured mage.  
> We will see  
> I do hope you will enjoy xx


	2. Memories

It wasn't easy, returning to civilisation. It had been ten months since Camille had departed Kirkwall for the Hinterlands. After that it had been one long month of integrating herself into the action she had left behind. Hawke had been working tirelessly to find a way to spur some kind of cease fire between the rebel mages and the templars, to no avail. However, much to her surprise, she received word from her most trusted companion, Aveline, that she had information vital to Camille’s sinking cause. It was on a dark and stormy evening that caused her to balance fortifying the house, keeping Bassion from fits of terror and her pouring over her old tomes, that Hawke’s imposed solitude was disturbed. So engrossed was she in reading at the dim candle light, as she rocked the crib next to her absentmindedly, that the loud knocking at the door gave her quite the fright. In a split second Camille was on her feet, lightning darting between her fingers and another hand shielding the crib, with her body poised to attack.

“Who is it? I will warn you once, it would not be wise for you to trespass here.” The Champion growled.

“Knowing what you are capable of Hawke, i’m damn well glad i’m your old friend!” came a lilted familiar voice. 

The recognition was immediate. With no further encouragement Camille rushed to the door, it swung open on its hinges, letting in a surge of rain and debris. She then squinted up to see the bright, humorous eyes of Isabela and next to her the thunderous expression that lay on Aveline’s somber face. Glancing quickly at their bedraggled appearances, clothing soaked through and hair plastered to their weather-beaten faces, she quickly decided.

“You... er..better come in” The door was quickly slammed shut as Camille watched Isabela shoot towards the cot and bring an eagerly awaiting Bassion into her arms, knowing that the pirate was now preoccupied with her godson Hawke turned to the imposing figure by the fire.

“Aveline, i’m so glad you are here, you received my message?”

“I got more than that dear friend, I heard of your sudden activity in Ferelden, your negotiations to converse to both Mage leaders and Templar Commanders alike”

“I was hoping I could talk some sense into someone….” Camille’s voice trailed off as she quickly gazed to the floor.

Isabela was near her now, cradling the cackling boy in her arms “We came because we have some information that is beneficial to you sweetie, you know we would do anything to help you” she added softly, the humorous glint gone from her eyes as she stroked Camille’s forearm with concern.

“I know, and I you” The mage returned with an appreciative smile.

“My contacts have spoken about a Peace Council for both Mages and Templars” Aveline had now begun to pace the room as Hawke's head snapped up with curiosity.

“This fighting! It needs to stop, you know as well as I, Camille that order MUST be restored, that’s why you need to be there, at the Temple of Sacred Ashes!" Her breathing was erratic now as she closed in near to her friend, frantic eyes scanning Camille's bewildered face.

"You..You can tell them that the Rite of Annulment was evoked by a Commander whose lapse of judgment, spurred on by madness does not reflect the attitudes of Templars as a whole.” “That the Chantry’s destruction was that of a rebel apostate who also does NOT reflect the views of the many mages” Aveline conveyed this speech with a passion so rarely seen from her old friend, leading Camille to wonder what terrible things must have happened in the past year.

Offering a reassuring glance to the distressed red head, Isabela added.“Darling, you were there, you were personally involved with the situation and dare I say with said rebel apostate."

“Anders” Camille softly breathed his name, the others hadn’t referred to him once, it was as if he was a thick presence in the room, a tension not to be brought to light.

“Is he?” Her eyes shot up to meet Aveline’s whose stony expression softened, it was the Rivaini who spoke in turn.

“None of us know kitten, but you know what a state he was in, we doubt he made it …..especially considering”

“I abandoned him” Hawke’s voice came faintly.

Aveline’s eyes quickly narrowed. “No Hawke, only Anders is to blame for his actions, not you, you did everything you could.”

Without answering Camille walked to the small window, gazing at the raging storm that seemed to swallow everything outside the comfort of her home. “I will go then, but there is something I must ask of you Bela”

“Anything sweetie” She felt a strong hand on her shoulder.

“Take Bassion away from here, I must go to this council alone, especially if there may be a risk of confrontation, it will not be safe for him”

It was the red head that spoke this time “Of course Hawke, your relatives in Rivain will aide us, we will take him to them and Isabela will stay there as long as you need her too”

 Isabela flashed a grin at the blushing infant, “I will so miss the sea darling, but for this little cherub? Anything”

* * *

 

That night both women stayed sheltered from the storm, Isabela cradling her godson by the fire and Aveline reclining awkwardly in a plushy armchair. All were asleep apart from Camille who lay in the darkness of her cold room. Her mind had journeyed to a place it had not in months, to Anders. The time apart and her rage towards him had obviously numbed her feelings. But she was so confused, she hadn't even contemplated that he may be dead. How did this make her feel? She didn’t even know anymore. With all these thoughts racing through her head Camille found herself drifting into a memory. A memory of the first time they had made love. The only time she felt like he completely belonged to her was when they made love.

_His impulsive but passionate kiss in the clinic had startled her, although she had eagerly reciprocated. Later that night she knew he would pay a visit. Her eyebrows had furrowed as she gazed intently into the fire of her grand bedroom, why was he taking so long? She sensed him even before he reached her, the sound of his robes, the smell of herbs and medicine mixed with the leather of his attire. her face soon broken out into a grin._

_“I thought you weren’t going to come”_

_“Justice doesn’t approve of my obsession with you” He smirked as he stroked one dark tendril behind her ear as he looked down at her with adoring eyes._

_“You are obsessed with me now are you” She teased with a wolfish smile._

_His expression suddenly darkened. “You have no idea Camille.”_

_The weight of his gaze suddenly made the whole room feel darker and hotter as Hawke’s breath started to intensify. Anders was so close now, his body radiating heat, his hands rising to touch her. Soon his lips were upon hers, the urgency almost swept her off her feet as his hands caressed her sending heat waves down her body. With a growl he ripped the front of her robe to expose the flesh of her shoulders and breasts. Dragging his face down to claim her pert nipples, Camille stroked his head while imploring him to go further still. Soon she was completely naked with his face trailing kisses down her abdomen._

Now in her cold bed, Camille thought upon the endless nights, full of loneliness that she refused to acknowledge, with a sigh of release she let her hands stray between her thighs. Dragging down her knickers, she mimicked how it had felt when he stuck his tongue between her folds for the first time. How the surge of wet heat enveloped her clit and forced a desperate gasp from her mouth.

_“Anders, the bed…..please” she had begged before he obliged, pushing her down into the soft quilts. He was fully clothed with nothing but the naked flame of lust in this eyes. Without breaking eye contact, Anders had unrobed himself to reveal his taut body. Eagerly Hawke sat up and ran her hands down the hard planes of his shoulders, his chiseled chest, his slim waist and finally to the burgeoning erection through his smalls. Shaking his head, he pushed her back down and slowly spread her thighs to reveal her dripping cunt._

_“Maker’s breath” his voice almost catching in his throat._

Camille mimicked the way her hips rose to meet his hovering fingers. Her own brushing the top of her pubis as she remembered how he slowly spread her lips apart to carefully slip in a slender finger into her depths. She had whimpered then and she was whimpering now as she massaged her hole with two fingers, excruciatingly slow as he had done.

_Camille had gazed up into his eyes as her lover’s breath increased with each moan that emitted from her lips, his arm shaking from the increase in speed as he pumped her furiously. Camille had began to moan louder as he bent down to lap her engorged clitoris enthusiastically with his pink tongue._

Withdrawing her soaking fingers, Camille sucked them clean similarly to how she had later sucked his cock clean of her juices. Rubbing her clit in circles, Hawke’s back arched off the bed like when she came all over his face, screaming his name as she gripped his golden head tight.

_Anders had groaned in approval as he left her suddenly, leaving her to shake from the full extent of her orgasm. Through heavy lidded eyes and whimpering gasps she watched him tear off his smalls to reveal his thick length._

_“I have been aching for you, for three years Camille, tormented by thoughts of you under me……over me” he almost sobbed the confession as he ran his hand down his cock_

_“Anders, I am yours, I have always been yours” Camille smiled while gently pulling him over her, his tip teasing her entrance, making her squirm._

In the darkness of her bedroom, Hawke copied his actions, how it felt when he plunged into her, all the way to the hilt so their hips touched. Anders had fucked her mercilessly, he took out the three years of absence by fucking the woman he loved into the mattress. She remembered how loud she had screamed, how his face grimaced as his pace quickened while he leaned his forehead to hers.

Hawke was now on all fours, fingers frantically moving in and out of her slick heat as the brevity of her arousal dripped down her thighs, the storm raged, muffling out her cries of ecstasy as she flung her head back.

She remembered the earth shattering moment when she had begged Anders to let her come as he fucked her harder like his life depended on it. It was when she screamed out his name along with many other obscenities that his pace slowed to long, thorough strokes as he joined her in climax, with gritted teeth and her name strained on his lips.

It was with this final recollection that Camille sank into the dusty pillows of her small bed, feeling well and truly spent. The force of her orgasm had left her gasping for air atop her thick sheets as she felt the sweat sticking her nightgown to her flushed body. She recalled how they had fallen asleep in each others arms, that in sleep it was the first time she had seen her rebel mage truly at peace.

And it was now in the dead of night, before the dawn that Camille realised that was all it was. A memory.

* * *

 

That morning the companions made their goodbyes once more. Bassion observed his mother with a mischievous curiosity uncannily like his father. Camille held him close to her like it was the last time.

“Take care of my boy Bela” her voice was muffled with tears while the dusky beauty regarded her with firm resolve, before enveloping her close friend in a tight hug.

“I will do everything in my power, he will be safe darling.” Hawke then turned to the former Captain of the Guard.

“Here Hawke, I have marked the location of the Temple of Sacred Ashes on your map, it will not take you long as it is in the Frostback mountains, but please” and she paused then “My dear friend be careful, you are about to make a step into a situation bigger than we have ever seen, this will be bigger than Kirkwall, bigger than one city”

This was a level of intuition that was unheard of from her friend, but the mage excepted it with an embrace. “I will be fine Aveline, whatever lies ahead, I will face it” her smile was then replaced with a gaze of steel, “nothing scares me anymore.” 

The Champion watched as her friends departed. Then from the gate, watched them ride off until they were no longer in sight. As she packed her bags her mind drifted to the memory, the memory of a man she once loved, a man that she knew no longer existed. As she dressed herself in her light armour, Camille knew that she was not just doing this for her redemption, her son, or the world. She was doing it for the memory of the man she had lost to corruption. What Anders had done was not a reflection of him in absolute but that he was a product of his environment, and if there was one thing this world did not need, it was more mages being pushed to desperate means. With a lock of her cottage door and a mounting of her horse, Hawke lifted the hood of her cloak, took the reigns and with one last glance to her map and her new destination. She gathered her strength for the journey ahead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First bit of smut I have "attempted" lets hope it made y'all as heated as it did me ;)


	3. Into the Blinding Light

It took her a mere couple of days to reach the Frostback Mountains. Camille was glad she had packed her warmest furs, for the countryside air was quickly replaced by the biting cold and snowy peaks. She had rode hard and fast through the unforgiving forests, however the sharp branches striking her face did nothing to deter her. The weather itself was wet and dreary. The ground decorated by patches of snow and frozen planes of water. The peaks now loomed over her, shrouded by ominous plumes of fog and mist. The wind lashing her body as she rode harder still. The mountains themselves were daunting large masses of treeless rock and hard ice, Hawke prayed that the Temple provided more sanctuary than the hastily built camps she had resided in these past few days.

The Temple of Sacred Ashes had been built into the very rock at the highest peak of the Frostbacks. Hawke had read that it was once the holding place of Andraste’s ashes but was now, after being rediscovered and refurbished, was the new site for a peace council that, with the Maker’s blessing, would end this confounded war. Camille was not alone however, many others were undertaking the pilgrimage, the road up the mountain was filled with figures of both Templars and Mages alike. The path itself was cobbled and trailed between two stretches of rock on either side, the earth was supple and green further up and trees grew in abundance. A pleasant change from the ice and rain at least.

With her hood up none of other attendees had seen her face, her aim was not to be recognised until she was in the temple at least. Her main focus was allocating the Chantry leader herself, Divine Justinia. It seemed that most of the conclave had already arrived as there were raised voices within the majestic temple. The temple itself clearly showed signs of the refurbishment as the stone in places was neatly cut and filled down without the years of wear and tear. Above these newly built sections, flags of the Chantry blazed across the sky held up by great stone statues resembling the Divine and her subordinates. With a quick glance to the guards, Camille was let in through the double doors engraved with the holy insignia, the heat from the main hall improving her mood immediately. The communion inside was mostly split within groups, the Mages were engaged in deep discussion to the right side of the hall while Hawke noted the Templars to the left shooting them gazes of suspicion and hostility from time to time.

* * *

 

Once inside Hawke impatiently thrust her hood down and shook out her hair with urgency. Some faces transfixed on her with startled recollection, others due to her ignoring both groups and marching straight to the two sisters of the Chantry, stationed near the main flight of stairs. The rabble of previous discussions quickly descended to hushed whispers. “The Champion”, “Kirkwall” and “Hawke” being the primary utterances, none of the shared thoughts perturbed her in the least. Hawke had a primary goal and gossip never held much importance to her. It was with this that Camille addressed one of the sisters immediately. One of her compatriots quickly whispered in her ear informing her of the strange woman's identification.

“Serah Hawke….we were not expecting the Champion to be…” Camille quickly cut off the the stammering first sister, whose eyes were regarding Hawke's armour nervously.

“I came to speak to the Divine”

"Of course but we cannot simply bring you to her” Crossing her arms Hawke glared at the second woman, who was significantly more hard faced, with slitted eyes.

“And why ever not? I wish to attend this peace council, I am no threat”

“Considering how intimately involved you were with the events of the Chantry’s destruction in Kirkwall, yes I would consider you a threat” This chantry cur was obviously trying to stare her down, in Hawke’s experience there were two types of chantry sisters: the overly pious, nervous types and the insufferable, 'holier than thou' arsewipes. It wasn't hard to see which category this woman belonged to.

Before even thinking Hawke’s anger started to build as she leaned even closer into the face of the holy sister. “If everyone spent their time carefully accessing everything that may be deemed a "threat" nothing would ever get done, now let me pass!”

“Enough.” Camille’s aggression was interrupted by a thickly accented voice, layered with authority. She spun round to see the Divine herself proceeding gracefully into the scene. The sisters immediately bowed and stepped back. Camille eyed the Most Holy critically, she was an old woman and the years of wisdom had weathered her once beautiful face, in turn the Divine observed the Champion with intelligent eyes before speaking.

“She will be of no danger, I was just informed of your presence Serah Hawke, and may I say I never thought I would see the revered Champion of Kirkwall at our humble peace conference” 

Hawke smirked then “What? You do not consider me to be a woman of diplomacy, I could surprise you most holy.” The Divine noted how unperturbed this woman was in her presence when others would have descended to their knees at the mere sight of her, it was clearly not the first time the Champion had been in the presence of leaders. She returned the smile warmly before gazing around the silent room, all the attention focused on them.

“If you would join me in my quarters Champion, I believe there is a great deal we must discuss”

“Holy mother I….” The first sister interrupted.

“I will be fine, return to your duties” Justinia stopped her with a soft movement of her hand before leading Hawke up the stairs and through the dimly lit corridors to her private quarters.

“So Serah Hawke, no one has heard of your activity for almost a year, it seemed that you had ran away”  Hawke had been strolling around the grandly decorated chamber, observing the large book case before her attention snapped back on the Divine, who was standing placidly by her desk.

“Hiding? Absolutely…..” she began with anger, but after regarding the old woman’s cocked eyebrow she confessed instead.

“I am ashamed to say it, but yes I was, it was not just for me it was for...for….my son”

“I came here most holy to try and help, I was in Kirkwall. I was personally involved in the conflict from the start.”

In a lower, haunted voice “I saw it all, I watched as the city descended into madness, I nearly succumbed to it myself.”

The Divine now spoke clearly. “The Chantry’s destruction in Kirkwall was caused by a rebel apostate no? It has been said to me from those closely tied with the city’s events that you were in close relations with this man for a length of time.” Justinia was close to her now. “Is this true?”

Silently Camille met her eyes and responded quietly “Yes...yes we were together. But I promise you, I never knew about his plans to blow up the Chantry. I wouldn’t have let him…you must believe me.”

The Holy Mother appeared deep in thought as she searched the Mage’s imploring face. “I do believe you, a woman in my position has to have skill at spotting liars…and you Hawke, though flawed, are no a liar”

“Thank you, your worship, I came here because...because I wished to convey the details of what happened over the course of my years in Kirkwall, to convince both sides that these severe acts were motivated by extremism”

“I agree my dear, your account will be very helpful, you were dear to the people there, you were their Champion, you had saved them many times. They will listen to someone as legendary as you." The Divine's smile grew suddenly

"I know of your year long disappearance because I myself deployed Seekers to search for you. That is why I viewed you as no threat earlier, it is also the secrecy of the Seeker's mission that means that those within the Chantry, including those Sisters, do not know of your innocence."

"I knew you would be invaluable to our cause, and….other matters” Her voice faltered as if it seemed she was going to divulge another reason for Hawke being of such importance but she stopped, the curiosity on Hawke's face spurring her to move on the conversation.

“Other matters can wait, I am just thankful to the Maker that you sought us out of your own accord.”

Camille beamed then, a lovely sight Justinia noted, it seemed this was a young lady so accustomed to hardship that she did not know how to truly smile, but when she did, it was infectious.

“My consorts have already arranged a room for you Champion, you were wise to arrive when you did, the peace council begins tomorrow. At dawn in fact. You look weary from much travel....rest, eat and we will convene tomorrow.”

One of the Sisters had now entered the room and clearly was waiting to escort Camille away, but not before the Mage displayed her gratitude. “Most Holy, I have heard much of your wisdom, but it is an honour for me to witness it. I will see you at dawn and thank you.”

With a bow of respect Camille left the smiling Justinia and departed quickly to her own quarters.

* * *

 

Camille found she could not sleep. The night was full of memories and she found she was missing Bassion terribly. They had been each others company for a year and now he wasn't there to cuddle close and stroke her hair between his chubby little fingers.

This made Hawke very restless, she soon slipped on a more formal robe, over her night gown, it was the colour of midnight blue that flowed to her feet and tied closely at the waist. Taking a candle from her bedside, she proceeded to find some means of late night entertainment. Camille had noted on her journey to the Divine’s quarter’s, a large library. It had been at the top of a winding staircase by the west wing. She had seen its imposing double doors flung open and books jam packed into every area of the room. It was a habit of hers to read when she was most nervous and right now all Hawke wanted was to get her mind off her absent son. The ground was chilly, even through her slippers and her face cold even under the layers of tumbling dark hair.

She was glad that, as the Champion, she was set apart from the large numbers of Templars and Mages, who were all residing in halls at the ground floor. That she had the peace of sharing a floor with the Divine and the Emissaries, it gave her little chance of being disturbed and more freedom from her armour in favour of more comfortable attire.

The stroll through the silent temple had been a peaceful one, but now as she journeyed further into the caverns of the first floor the Champion noticed the air was getting colder and darkness thicker.

Suddenly she felt a chill run up her spine like she was about to enter a place that was forbidden to her. A place that would change everything. This strange premonition surged through her as she walked up the ominous stair case to the Library. A place she quickly noted was housing a lot of commotion spurring her to clamber quickly up the stairs to the double doors. 

It wasn’t long before disorientating chaos surrounded her. The light was blinding, all Camille could see was bright green as thick and painful as acid, her ears were bleeding with the screams of thousands and she did not even know if she was dead or alive. All she knew was that this was the beginning of something far worse than she could ever have anticipated.


	4. Through Smoke and Flame

Cassandra Pentaghast was in a blind panic, though she did not show it. The explosion of the Conclave was devastating, not only were the screams audible for miles but a more sinister outcome had occurred. A rift had ripped through the sky above the temple, stretching for what seemed an age, and was a cutting green. The largest rift ever seen in Thedas was residing over their heads and no one knew where it came from or more importantly, who caused it. The most mortifying news was that it seemed no one had survived, at what was supposed to be a time of peace, thousands of mages and templars had perished. Not to mention the revelation that brought The Seeker to her knees, Divine Justinia too had died.

The strangest thing, however, had yet to be revealed, for out of all this destruction there was but one survivor.

The soldiers had heard it before they saw it, a low humming sound, ominous and threatening. Immediately an especially powerful rift had torn open right before them, so strong that it blasted them off their feet. From the ground they reported seeing two figures emerge from the rift, a human female and beside her, much to their shock, another female figure completely swathed in golden light. She was almost floating off the ground and the radiance she emitted seemed to blind the darkness swirling around the rift. This entity appeared to aid the female, for once the woman had emerged from the rift completely, it closed out of sight taking the mysterious spirit with it. In awe the soldiers began to rise as they saw the woman take disorientated, shuffled steps forward, her robes were in tatters and her person covered in grime. Without the previous illumination the woman resembled something of a ghoul. A menacing one at that, for once they regained their senses the men promptly drew their swords. As soon as they did, with a long strained gasp the woman collapsed to the floor.

* * *

Solas had been charged with nursing the sole survivor of the temple explosion. He had heard whisperings from the soldiers that had discovered her that she had stepped through the Fade itself. This intrigued the elf greatly as he had spent much of his lifetime researching and obsessing over the complexities of the Fade. He was led to a dank prison cell that serviced now as a medical ward, the woman was limp on the straw bed, mumbling inaudibly from time to time. She looked a mess, understandably, Solas shuddered to think the horrors that she had witnessed.

Everyone else had ascertained that she was guilty of the explosion, simply because she was the only survivor. However Solas’s keen intuition told him something far greater was at play here. No one knew who the woman was either, being the only survivor and there being nothing identifiable by her clothing. What was once fine blue robes were tattered, the poor woman wore no shoes, so her feet were covered in cuts and bruises. If Solas was certain of something, it was that this woman had gone through hell. Over the course of three days Solas forbade anyone from visiting the prisoner while she recovered. He dressed her wounds, changed her clothes to a plain, but clean, grey robe, made from wool and sure to insulate her. After washing her face of the dirt and soot Solas observed that she was extremely beautiful, for a human. He observed her thick, dark eyebrows arched around eyes framed by long black lashes, her tanned colouring and exotic appearance hinted at least part Rivani origin.

She had remained comatose, if not for faint stirrings, for some time until he began to depart for supplies. Solas turned to find her sitting perfectly and rigidly upright. Unsettlingly, she had not made a sound during her sudden awakening but her gaze was transfixed at the wall ahead, with eyes that stared but did not see. Eerily, her mouth was slack with an expression of screaming, though no sound came out.

With tentative steps and a hand upon his staff, Solas edged nearer to the woman. “What is it that you see?” his voice but a whisper though she did respond, her body shaking with terror as she glared up at him, her eyes the colour of night and wide like orbs.

“I saw….”

“Yes” he bent down with urgency.

“I SAW…” suddenly a bloodcurdling scream was ripped from her lips, the guards rushed to the scene. Solas automatically grabbed the woman and held her to him as she shook profusely, her eyes glazing, tears streaming down her face.

“It’s alright, your safe” he soothed, gently rocking her while gesturing to the guards to stand down. Her cries slowly died to small whimpers as she lent into him, accepting his consolation and slowly falling asleep.

* * *

 

“What do you mean she is awake but we cannot interrogate her?” Cassandra was getting increasingly annoyed with this mage, he was an expert, but this woman was the prime suspect.

There was no chance she was waiting another week for answers.

Solas was patient however. “Seeker, this woman has gone through a severely traumatic experience, I do not even believe she remembers who she is.”

They both glanced at the rocking figure on the bed, the mad woman was muttering nonsensically. In her head Cassandra knew he had a point but she needed answers.

“I know you wish to understand and protect her Solas but the citizens demand answers, so many have died and someone must pay!”

“So what you find a scape goat? Where is the justice in…” 

The arguing seemed in the far distance, and slowly but surely the woman was regaining her strength. Her fingers began to twitch with life instead of madness as she felt warmth flood through her body. The surroundings seemed more real now, and she was far more aware of the smell of the prison, the sound of the mice and the pale glow of sunlight through the prison bars. Soon the memories flooded back, it was not long before she realised who she was.

“Give me the prisoner, elf, that is an ORDER” The argument between the two imposing figures had escalated but before Solas could say another word he heard a noise, a strange noise.

The slight rapping of knuckles against metal.

With wide eyes both Cassandra and Solas watched as the prisoner impatiently rapped on her cell door, her face the picture of annoyance, all trace of previous madness gone.

“By the Maker…” Solas began, the guard himself was so shocked by the transition he nearly fell.

“Andraste preserve me, what is this?” Cassandra was staggering forward, this woman had been virtually catatonic and now was acting like…this? Through the deafening silence the prisoner finally spoke in an amused tone.

“Now are you two going to carry on praying to who knows what, or are you going to get me some food?” with a chuckle of pure glee at their shock she added. “I’m bloody starving” watching their expressions convulse.

Hawke couldn’t help but crack a grin.

* * *

 

The Seeker still had no idea who this insane woman was, all Cassandra could do was give the grinning buffoon food. This was after quickly picking her jaw off the floor caused by the shock of seeing this woman’s bizarre transformation. Solas had not much to say after this, he was as dumbfounded as she, and did not protest to the woman’s immediate interrogation.

In shackles the prisoner was shoved into the pitch black room for some much needed answers. Granted the woman was not looking so amused any more, more angry as she muttered something under her breath similar to “I hadn’t even finished bloody eating”.

“Explain to me why we shouldn’t kill you now!?” Cassandra slammed her gloved fist on the the table, Hawke didn’t even blink, let alone flinch. If this tightly wound square wished to intimidate her she clearly didn’t know who the fuck she was dealing with.

Instead she cooly observed the aggravated woman.

Hawke could not remember a damn thing from before the current day, but she remembered the unflinching suspicion in this woman's eyes. The woman had cropped black hair and a stern pale face decorated with a scar on the side. A tough woman who had seen much, perhaps she had more in common with her than she had originally judged. The other woman in the room was as quiet as the night, lying in the shadows, observing Hawke with curiosity and thinly veiled hostility. All Hawke could feel was the burning sensation in her left hand, she had observed it earlier, noticed that at sporadic times a sharp surge of pain would bleed through her while a bright green light emulated around her palm and fingers.

Clearly a lot of shit had gone down in the past couple of days.

"Do you KNOW why you are here?"

 With a smirk that carefully concealed her growing irritation Camille replied. “No, was it to offer me more comfortable accommodation?”

“You think this is a JOKE?” The Seeker shouted.

“Is that a rhetorical question?” Camille retorted with a sneer.

“Cassandra! Calm yourself” the other woman’s soft, but threatening, voice stalled the other before she moved to strike the prisoner. Camille leaned back in her seat and glanced at the painful shackles that had been tightened around her hands. “Would someone care to tell me what the fuck is going on?” her piercing glare shifting from both the women.

“You honestly don’t know?” Cassandra had spent the best part of the past year searching for the lauded Champion of Kirkwall, as Justinia believed her immense reputation and skills would help bring peace to Thedas. But here she was, having to deal with some cow with an attitude problem, and no Champion, it was all so ridiculous.

“Almost a week ago an unexplained explosion completely destroyed the Temple of Sacred Ashes and all that were to attend the Peace Conference.”

Camille allowed her shock to be easily readable off her face, this could not be possible. “Did anyone survive apart….apart from me?”

“No you are the sole survivor” 

All trace of attitude or sass had gone from the woman’s face as the prisoner’s expression contorted with despair, her eyes frantically scanning the floor.

“All those people” her voice was strangled, she looked utterly distraught.

The Seeker grabbed her left hand which was emitting green wisps. “How about you explain this.”

“Do you think I know? I cannot even remember what has happened in the past few days. I have NO idea what this thing is?” Camille’s voice was laced with grief and anger as she snatched her hand back.

The angry one responded by almost attacking her prisoner with vehemence. “You are LYING”

 Before she could continue to her assault the quiet woman stopped her once again. “Stop Cassandra, we need her.”

“I don’t understand any of this” Camille whispered.

The other woman had a pleasant, calm face, like a placid lake that hinted danger below the surface. “Do you remember anything at all?”

Hawke’s eyebrows furrowed as she remembered flashes of a memory. “I….I..remember running from things, I was in a place of pure darkness, but….but there was a woman.”

The quiet one’s regarded her with raised brows. “A woman?”

Before she could respond Cassandra had stopped pacing and addressed her companion. “Leliana, go to the Ford Camp, I will deal with this one.”

With a short nod, Leliana was gone. Cassandra then proceeded to unlock the prisoner’s chains. “What DID happen?”

Camille searched the brunette’s face for answers, all she got was an unsteady response. “It…it would be easier to show you.”

The light caused her to squint as she was led out into the courtyard. But Hawke’s eyes quickly widened with the shock at seeing the sky. The once pale blue sky was now torn apart by a large swirling rift. It was monstrous.

“They call it The Breach, it’s a rift into the world of demons and it grows larger every passing hour.” Cassandra turned to face her now. “This and numerous other smaller rifts were all caused by the explosion in the Conclave.”

The storm in the sky pulsed then, causing the mark on her hand to pulse violently. The pain causing Hawke to cry out and fall to her knees.

“That mark is slowly killing you, though it may be the key to stopping all this.” 

The grim news caused another sardonic smile to break on Hawke’s face. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, i’m dying as well? Great.”

Cassandra ignored the jibe “Whoever did this needs to be held responsible, you wish to prove your innocence? Help us.”

“It seems I have no choice in the matter.”

The Seeker’s stern face revealed all, “No, none”

* * *

 

It wasn’t long before she and the Seeker were fighting demons side by side. They were making their way to the camp and luckily Hawke had found a staff, much to her companions initial hostility. Once entering the battle ground, Camille noticed the elf who had been nursing her to health, he was deep in combat and behind him stood a rift. The demons themselves were repulsive, humanoids contorted and twisted into unrecognisable ways. Few resembled those who may have been stretched on a rack, occasionally emitting blood curdling screeches. Cassandra herself was a formidable fighter, charging through several abominations at once. It was not until this minor battle had finished that Hawke was left gazing at the rift, almost immediately the elf had grabbed her left hand and thrust it in front of the tear. The tear began to pulse and vibrate and much to everyones shock, exploded into nothing.

Camille stared at the elf “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything, I theorised that your mark may have the ability to close rifts, and as suspected…I was right” The elf smiled calmly at the prisoner who looked far more healthy and fit than he last had seen her.

“But thats….that’s” Hawke’s train of thought suddenly stopped as she recognised the figure entering the clearing.

Her face quickly spread into an elated grin. “VARRIC”

“Hawke? Why am I really glad to see you!” Varric and the prisoner had now practically sprinted towards each other, the dwarf almost sweeping the mage off the ground by the force of his embrace.

Cassandra Pentaghast did a double take.

“You KNOW each other?” The two of them were too busy reacquainting to notice Cassandra’s imminent breakdown.

“This…this CHILD is the Champion of Kirkwall?” The Seeker scanned the woman’s form she was much smaller than her, five foot five and slim, no where near the six foot jugger-naught that lying dwarf had so poignantly described.

“This is the SAME Hawke I have been searching for best part of a year?”

Varric Tethras sighed, “Yes Seeker, this is she, the legend in the flesh.” The whole scene was extremely amusing to Solas, humans were so ridiculously dramatic.

"This cannot be…..you are too…too.. SMALL!” Cassandra’s verbal berating had become too much for Camille who sharply turned with a snarl.

“Listen Bitch, I may be small but I WILL kick your teeth down your throat if you continue to insult me.”

Camille had always looked younger than her years, but she found the more people underestimated her, the more it worked in her favour. It was easier to catch them off guard. However it never ceased to piss her off how her reputation made her more disappointing in the person. Most people expected a muscle bound, meat headed broad. Certainly not petite, cheerful and baby faced. Annoyance aside, the rudeness just gave Hawke another reason to kick their ass.

“If you are why did you not say?” 

“YOU never fucking asked”

Cassandra snorted looking down at the furious girl glaring up at her. “This infant is no champion, she was little more than a gurgling mess two days ago, she could….”

The Seeker did not have time to finish her sentence before she was sent flying into the air. In a rage Camille had withdrawn her hand and hit her with a full force of dispelling magic, leaving the Seeker sprawled awkwardly and painfully across the ice several yards away.

“HAWKE!” Varric rushed forward to grab her before she started assaulting the fallen woman further.

“Get OFF me Varric! Did you hear what she said?”

“Yes but you mustn’t….”

 “She STARTED it!” Camille whined petulantly as she tried to snake out of the dwarf’s vice like grip. Solas on the other hand was quietly chuckling to himself while he watched the dazed Cassandra try and fail to stand up. Finally she was on her feet, stumbling forward towards the dwarf and Hawke. Varric was busy calming Camille down while the she tightly crossed her arms across her chest with a sour expression on her face.

“It seems…..that I may.... have been wrong about my….presumption.” The Seeker was breathing heavily, the force of the magic and the fall still effecting her.

Varric laughed loudly. “That is quite the understatement Seeker! It just shows you should never judge a book by it’s cover….right Hawke?” He slapped the mage around the back but Camille’s attention was fixed on the individual emerging from the smoke.

Through the smoke and the flame he was standing, regal like a lion, sword in hand ready to unleash his ferocity on any oncoming demon. Cullen.

He looked different now, than he had in Kirkwall, healthier. Camille drank in his appearance, she had always, though she refused to admit it, found him a handsome man, but right now she didn’t think she had seen anything more lovely. In Kirkwall he held a controlled constitution but she had always noted a virulent anger simmering below the surface, his attitude towards mages was well known. He was ruthless and full of rage. Now he looked calmer, more composed though she still regarded him with suspicion. Her expression of wonder soon changing to one of hostility. Though he did not bear the insignia of the Templars, she bitterly noted the truth, once a templar.....always a templar.

Cullen was completely floored when his eyes met hers. The memories of a fresh battle splattered on a grey robe, hair tousled and blowing widely in the wind. Hawke looked tired, restless but it was still her. The Champion. 

"Hawke?” Cullen’s voice was soft, almost breathing her name. He was close now, a much taller figure clad in rich armour, his breastplate swathed in red fabric attached to a crimson mane on his shoulders. His expression dazed....affectionate. Her's hostile and guarded.

“Cullen, I never thought I would….” all traces of her previous annoyance was gone instead he watched her gaze up at him with those large eyes, so impossibly dark like staring into the void itself. He knew he could get lost in those eyes, and secretly he knew he had always wanted to.

Cassandra’s voice cut through the tension like a knife. “Is it me, or does everyone seem to know this woman apart from me? This is all so _exhausting_!” Varric chuckled then, his gaze shifting between the Templar and the Mage, their gazes transfixed on each other.

“Don’t worry Seeker, Hawke just has that effect on people.”


	5. Belonging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders remembers the years spent with Hawke, and the years he may have without her.

He missed her so much that it ached. Hawke knew who he was from the start, what he was capable of, he had told her many times. Warned her that he would break her heart, but she wouldn’t listen.  
Even as he pushed her away, Anders lost himself to her.

He cherished every moment she sauntered into his clinic. She was very young when he first saw her, she had the childishness of youth but the steely resolve of one forced to grow up too quickly. Behind the cherry pie smiles and saucy winks he saw a hardness, a strength carved in stone. Camille had been the leader of her family since her father died, when she was just a girl. When he threatened her after her very first interruption she didn’t even bat an eyelid. Her lovely face merely spread slowly into a sultry smile as she giggled “Please don’t cause an unnecessary mess.”

He was hers right then.  
He was invited regularly on her expeditions, both for his skill as a healer, a Grey Warden and, he hoped secretly, his company. Anders stole glances at her, eyes tracing the curves of her pouting lips and rounded hips. Ears etching her haunting voice into his mind. His intuition observed her speech, ladened with innuendo and teasing. A raucous sense of humour and bawdiness obviously instilled to keep others a fair distance away. But he saw through that, and he imagined it angered her greatly. These walls of stone were for protection, stopping anyone else from taking advantage and controlling her. She had lost so much, so many people that she loved, caring for another would break her, or so she thought.  
Hawke was the very image of strength and perseverance, but Anders was the only one who saw the vulnerability that lay stirring below the surface. The fragility. And if there was one thing Hawke despised, it was weakness, letting her guard down was the worst thing she could do. It invited danger, not just for her autonomy, but for the many depending on her.  
Camille’s anger was legendary, she was a mage of great power and equally a woman of great rage. After the events she had witnessed, powerless to stop the deaths of numerous loved ones, her homeland thrown into chaos, she was nothing less than the personification of wrath.  
It scared him sometimes, in their many evenings in The Hanged Man, her companions playing cards, her a laughing, a carefree air around the table. Then some drunkard would slight her and in a flash she would change, she was a woman possessed, a seething mass of vengeance and fury. Her once giggling, sweet face would contort into something demonic as she unleashed her anger. The victim would swiftly be assaulted and it took the iron grip of Aveline to keep her screaming at bay. It was only after the unfortunate was dragged off the scene in a sorry state that Camille would return to ‘normal’. Even then Anders could see the ghosts behind her eyes, the fire that could never rest, a fire that continued to rise.

Despite him protesting against their union, Anders fell desperately in love with her. He yearned for the days he would fight by her side, hear the laugh that was as bright as silver bells but as cutting as ice. His nights were always plagued by vivid dreams, but now they were tormented by visions of her, and the things he longed to do to her.  
Justice hammered on about the importance of the task at hand, his work, his movement, insisted that that girl was little more than a distraction.  
Ander’s sleepless nights and forbidden desires told him otherwise.  
His dreams were always the same.  
The darkness was filled with her smile, her smell, the heat between her legs that demanded his touch, his hands gliding down the soft planes of her curves. The silk robe pooling around her feet, the colour of crimson, like the fullness of her lips.  
Lips that he devoured, hungrily claiming her with his tongue, hearing her growl as he clung to her tighter. He would whisper in her ear, desperately proclaiming his hidden devotion to her, that he understood her pain for he felt such insurmountable rage himself, how he would burn in it with her. Willingly.  
He would lay her body down and own every inch of her with his mouth, feel her fingers dig into his shoulders, back, head as he bore himself between her thighs. She would taste sweeter than strawberries, her beautiful head would tilt back in ecstasy as he ripped her climax from her. It wouldn’t be long before his body would be over hers, he would lift her onto his lap her arms around him as he plunged into her depths. They would join, and she would ride him till he released himself deep into her. Their union would soon be over, as she would disappear from sight, the red robe and raven hair replaced by imposing blue. So much piercing blue. Instead of the heat of her skin, the flames in her eyes he would feel the cold, hard touch of Justice. He would awake gasping for air, hard from the memory of her tight hole around him. For years this would occur, he would release himself, stroke away the memory and the dream, her name a strained prayer on his lips as he choked out his orgasm to the darkness.

It was not long before he gave into her.  
Ander’s first night between her thighs was everything he imagined it to be and so much more. Camille loved him with an intensity that he never thought was possible. With the increasing pressure of Justice on his shoulders, she was quickly becoming the one thing keeping his sanity in check.

They were happy for a time, however a year passed before they were no longer to be a duo.

The life in the Amell mansion was one of luxury and relaxation, scarce were the days of fighting for a living. She was now the Champion of Kirkwall, loved and feared. But to him, he could not rest. Anders could not relax while there were mages suffering around him, to him inactivity and apathy were the source of evil. It would not be the evil doers that would destroy the world but those that allowed them to do it. Increasingly, he would throw himself into his manifestos and the mage underground. For a mage, Camille was neutral on the subject, she stood behind him completely on mages needing freedom When the death of her mother at the hands of a blood mage came the situation quickly changed.  
He was with her when she had found Leandra. For several years Camille was helping to investigate the disappearances of several women in Kirkwall, and only recently discovered that the killer delivered white Lilies to his next victims. So when a bunch of white Lilies were found in her home, and her mother gone, Hawke turned into something Anders hadn't seen before.

Despair was etched across her face as she desperately searched for her mother, she was the only member of her family left and she was supposed to protect her.  
When they found Leandra, or what was left of her, it was the single most disturbing thing he had ever seen. The perpetrator was a blood mage insane with grief, he had mutilated all of his victims and assembled them in resemblance to his dead wife. Leandra possessed the final piece, her face. Camille killed the necromancer herself, he had never in the four years he had been by her side seen such fury and power wielded in unison.  
After the battle the “mother” fell into her daughters arms, when she died Camille’s desperate pleas were heartbreaking, her face sodden with tears, her screams of grief piercing his soul as her body shook and convulsed.  
She had looked up at him then, her eyes wide with madness searching his face desperately.  
“Please, Anders, you have….have to save her…..heal her please..she doesn’t deserve to go like this…please”.  
All her companions could do was watch as the most formidable warrior in Kirkwall fell apart.

Eventually Camille stood up, when she turned around she was no longer the same woman he had known the day before. Her expression blank and body rigid, without saying another word she left.

Hawke had sunk into a depression, she spent most of her time in her room, speaking to no one. She accepted consolation from Isabela, as she was the only one who seemed to sooth her, along with Varric. It was when Anders approached her she was upright on the bed, swathed in furs, her face pale with eyes that said…. nothing. When she looked up at him accusation was there, anger was there, a need to blame someone was there.

“You never stop do you? Going on and on about how mages shouldn’t be feared, fucking trusted and THIS happens” her words were cutting as she let out her rage on him. Angry that all he ever did was campaign for the rights of mages like they were without fault, that they were not dangerous. She KNEW he would chalk up her mothers death as an anomaly. And she was so much fucking more than a damn statistic.

He looked down at her with thinly veiled pity, and oh maker did Hawke despise pity.  
“Don’t look at me like that! I don’t need your fucking pity!, A MAGE did this Anders and you wish for them to have absolute freedom when they are capable of these atrocities?”

“You know I despise blood mages, and I…I know you are angry with me” He bent down then to stroke her hand before it was quickly withdrawn.

“I love you…and I will be here if you need me” He quickly departed then, not before glancing back to see the heat boiling in her eyes as she stared him down. All without saying another word.

 

* * *

 

 

It was this way for nearly two months before Camille visited him in his clinic. She was clad in robes and not armour, her hair streaming down her back, she looked haunted but healthier.

“Anders….we need to talk” her voice was faint, her eyes were fixed on him but there was distance there.

“Whatever you need, I….I haven’t seen you in two months, just hearing your voice” his eyes were wild then. “I have missed you”  
He was close then, hands caressing her face, an attempt to sooth the pain that had not yet dulled. Inhaling her, Maker he had missed holding her.

“Anders, I’m pregnant” Looking up at him, she was so small, not a warrior but scared, her gaze imploring his for an answer. He quickly let out a choked sound as he stumbled backwards, not believing his ears.

“You’re….what?” 

“Pregnant, it is yours and I wish to keep it.”

 “Why? I cannot be a father….how do I know it is mine?” his tone was soon accusatory, his gaze piercing hers. Bitterly remembering all those jealous nights he had spent watching her and that Fenris flirting without a care in the bloody world.

Hawke quickly shot back “What exactly are implying Anders?” 

His gaze softened then “I…I am sorry i didn’t mean that…..I just want to understand…I never thought you would…”

“Keep a baby? I know, but after all this…..death…my family is dead my love, my precious Bethany who I loved more than anything, my stupid brother, my father and my…my mother” Hawke’s voice was strained then.

“I was supposed to protect them…and I failed….I won’t fail my baby, I will care for them whether you choose to aide me or no, but it is your right to know of it’s existence.” She looked so vulnerable then, hand absentmindedly stroking her belly as she fumbled with the various tools on his desk. She felt a hand tilt her face up to meet eyes filled with intensity.

“I love you more than anything Camille, I will stand with you…you will never be alone again” Strong arms enveloped her as she breathed his smell, felt the feathers of his coat tickle her head, a contented sigh shared between the both of them.

The baby was, thankfully, safely delivered months later, a healthy baby boy. Anders had entered the delivering room to see his son swaddled in cloth, rosy pink and clinging to his mothers tendrils. Camille was flushed from the exertion but a smile lay on her face that he had not seen in months, she was beaming from ear to ear.  
“Anders…it’s your son” she gasped.  
She watched him stroke the boys head tenderly before lifting his gaze to hers, a gaze full of love and promise.  
He promised her that he would be there for them, as a family, be there for Camille the woman he loved and most importantly his son. The little golden haired boy that he named Bassion, after his uncle, his first mentor. His uncle was there to support Anders when he was just a boy about to be taken away by templars, his father, however, had shunned him in fear.  
For a time he kept his promise, they were very happy. Day by day, Bassion looked more like his father, the cat like chocolate eyes, the aquiline nose, the golden hair.

Camille doted on him incessantly, spending a lot of her time reading her rusty tomes to him by the fireplace, soft words pouring from her while she hugged him close into her furs. Occasionally she would look up to see Anders watching them, not noticing the inner conflict rippling below the surface. The tinges of blue flitting across his pupils.

He kept his promise, for a time.  
It was not long before Anders felt the restlessness, the ache for activity. Justice was more demanding now, angry at the presence of a family or as he named it “the ultimate distraction”. He was plagued at night with images of his boy taken away from him, thrust into the brutality of the Circle. Seeing Camille return to a shell at seeing her child ripped away from her, seeing her die, another casualty of the burgeoning hatred towards mages. Justice hissed at him in the shadows, blue flame piercing his soul, reminding him that all was doomed if he did not act. That he must act.  
Camille noticed his gradual change, how his touch was colder, more distant, how he spent more time maker knows where and throwing himself into franticly scribbling his manifestos.

Anders remembered this as he made the long arduous journey from Kirkwall to the Wilds.  
The journey was almost a blur, for months before the end of the Chantry he had thought of nothing but that penultimate night, and little else. He knew he was sacrificing everything, the love of his life, his son and his freedom for the greater good. Anders knew Hawke would understand his motivations, she had seen the suffering the same as he, but like many others she felt the only thing she could do was track down the likes of Sir Alerik. A full scale rebellion on the other hand was definitely not on her mind, he knew Bassion was her top priority. He had often watched them playing together, seeing the carefree giggles from his little boy all while knowing it would not last. Bassion would most likely grow to be a mage, and they would take him away, it would break Camille’s heart. However Anders knew Camille would not and could not decide to become a fugitive with him. The life of travel and fear was not for her or their son. He betrayed her trust, made her an accessory he knew she could never give up her values. He had seen her face when the Chantry was destroyed, her expression changed from horror to pure betrayal, her beautiful face blanching, jaw set in seething anger and the fresh tears of despair wetting her cheeks.

Anders sobbed at the memory as he clawed through the undergrowth. Where he was going he had no idea, though he knew she would not go with him even when he begged for her to stay. It was night fall, the sky was bruised and a crimson light fell across the forest. He never thought for a second how hard it would be for him to lose her, to not see her smile, to watch her go from strength to strength. They belonged to one another, and now he could not hold her…… Anders groaned as his nails dragged down the side of a tree, she was right if there was one thing he had to do it was to live with his consequences.  
There in the dying light of the old day, Anders was no longer the same man, if anything he knew he was half of a whole person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for not updating, not only had dreaded writers block but had to go away for a while. Will be more consistent ;) Hope this enjoyable if not.....im sorry haha


End file.
